The Long Hot Summer (2 page)

She sat on the stepladder, her shoulders slumping in resignation as the enthusiasm she had felt earlier that morning dissipated. It did not take the intelligence of a rocket scientist to know that Ryan Blackstone did not like women. And apparently it wasn’t all women—just the younger ones.

At thirty, she had experienced what most women her age hadn’t: widowhood. Several months before she’d celebrated her twenty-eighth birthday Simeon Randall had been killed by a hit-and-run driver when he’d pulled off the parkway to fix a flat tire. Simeon, mercifully, had died instantly from massive head trauma.

The appearance of two police officers at her door, asking that she come to a local hospital because her husband had been killed in a traffic accident had changed her and her life forever. She’d lost her first love, soul mate and life partner. Even after she had buried her husband she refused to accept that he would not walk through the door each night to share dinner with her. She’d continued to set the table for two. When her mother, who had come to see her without calling first, asked about the extra place setting, Kelly broke down and sobbed in her arms the way she’d done as a child. Camille Andrews stayed the night, holding her daughter in her arms while they slept in the bed Kelly had shared with her son-in-law.

The following day Kelly walked into the principal’s office at the school where she’d taught third grade, and resigned her position. Two days later she got into her car and headed for Washington, D.C. to spend time with her sister and brother-in-law. A month’s stay became two, and eventually twenty-three.

She had returned to New York City to clean out her co-op apartment, sell items she did not want, place heirloom pieces in storage and list the property with a real estate agent. The apartment was sold six months later, and Kelly deposited the proceeds into a Washington, D.C., bank account. She continued to pay to store her furniture until she received official documentation of her hire as a teacher for Blackstone Farms Day School. The antique mahogany sleigh bed, armoire, heirloom linens, quilts and the wrought-iron table and chairs that had once sat on her grandmother’s patio now graced the charming bungalow she would call home for the next year.

She sat on the stool until the door opened again, and this time it was Sheldon Blackstone who had come to see her. “Don’t bother to get up,” he said, as he came closer. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his legs at the ankles. “It looks nice, Miss Kelly.”

She nodded. “I should finish decorating tonight.”

A slight frown marred Sheldon’s lined forehead. “Why don’t you put that off until tomorrow?”

Kelly studied the older man’s profile, finding him quite handsome. Tall, solidly built, with brilliant light-gray eyes in a face the color of toasted pecans, she knew the widowed horse breeder could easily attract a woman from thirty to eighty.

“Why?”

“Everyone’s gathering in the dining hall tonight at six to welcome my son and grandson home.” Since coming to Blackstone Farms Sheldon noticed that Kelly rarely took her meals in the dining hall with the other employees.

She nodded. “I’ll be there, Mr. Blackstone.”

Straightening, he wagged a finger at her. “I told you before that we’re pretty informal here. Please call me Sheldon.”

“If that’s the case, please call me Kelly.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll call you
Miss
Kelly in front of the children. There’s an unwritten rule here. The children aren’t allowed to address adults by their given name, especially women. I know it may sound outdated and quite Southern to a Northerner, but it is a Blackstone tradition.”

Kelly smiled. “I may be from New York, but I do claim some Southern roots. I have some Virginia blood on my daddy’s side and South Carolina on my mama’s.”

Sheldon flashed a rare smile. “Where in Virginia?”

“Newport News.”

“The best seafood I’ve ever eaten was in Newport News.”

“I have relatives there who are fishermen.”

Sheldon took a quick glance at his watch. “I expect to see you later.”

“You will.”

Kelly had to smile.
I expect to see you later.
It was Sheldon’s way of ordering her to eat with the other employees. Since she had come to live on the farm, she had eaten at the dining hall twice, both times for breakfast. Sheldon had informed her that breakfast and lunch were served buffet-style, while dinner was a sit-down affair where everyone who lived or worked on the property shared in this meal—all except for her.

She usually prepared a light dinner, cleaned up the kitchen in the bungalow before throwing all of her energies into her craft projects. She’d worked practically nonstop to ready her classroom for the projected first day of school, which was now only three days away.

Curbing the urge to salute her boss, she watched as he walked across the floor of the spacious outbuilding that had been converted into a schoolhouse. She wanted to say
like father, like son,
but decided to reserve judgment on the Blackstones. After all, they were responsible for an enterprise that included thousands of acres of land, millions of dollars in horseflesh and a payroll for more than thirty employees.

After seeing an ad in
The Washington Post
for an experienced teacher certified in early childhood education to teach on a horse farm in the western part of Virginia, Kelly had searched the Internet for information on Blackstone Farms. She had learned that Blackstone Farms was one of a few owned and operated African American horse farms in the state.

She liked this part of Virginia. It was so different from New York City and Washington, D.C. Although it was early summer, the heat and humidity were noticeably lower. The property, west of the Blue Ridge and east of the Shenandoah Mountain ranges, lay in a valley like a shimmering emerald on blue-black velvet, was to become her home for the next year.

She glanced at her watch. It was almost four-thirty. She would finish putting up the banner, then go home to prepare for dinner.

Twenty minutes later, the border in place, Kelly walked out of the schoolhouse, closing the door behind her. Sheldon had introduced her to some of the other employees, but tonight would be the first time she would interact with all of them socially. It would also be the first time she would meet the parents of the children who would become her responsibility.

Attending the dinner would also bring her face-to-face with Ryan Blackstone again. He’d caught her off guard when he’d entered the schoolhouse undetected, but she made a solemn promise it would be the last time he would catch her off guard.

Two

K
elly parked her Honda between two late-model pickup trucks and stepped out into an area set aside for parking. It was fifteen minutes before six, yet the lot was almost filled to capacity. She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she saw him.

Ryan was dressed in black: linen shirt, slacks and low-heeled boots. The color made him appear taller, more imposing. Although he’d slowed his stride to accommodate the pace of the young child clinging to his hand, Kelly still admired the fluidity of his beautifully proportioned physique. There was something about Ryan that reminded her of her Simeon even though the two men looked nothing alike.

“It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it, Miss Kelly?” Cooling mountain breezes ruffled the leaves of trees, bringing with it the cloying sweetness of wildflowers blooming throughout the valley.

Kelly stopped in midstride, her breathing halting momentarily before starting up again. Ryan had also stopped and turned around to face her. He stood several feet away, flashing a wide, white-tooth smile.

Recovering quickly, she returned his smile. “Yes, it is, Dr. Blackstone.” Her gaze shifted to the boy staring up at her. Kelly knew the child was a Blackstone. He had inherited his father’s features. His eyes were a mirror image of Ryan’s. She extended her hand. She knew from the records Sheldon had given her that Sean Blackstone had recently celebrated his fourth birthday.

Bending at the knees, she said, “Hi.”

Ryan placed a hand on his son’s head. “Sean, this is Miss Kelly. She’s going to be your teacher. Miss Kelly, this is my son, Sean.”

Sean stared at her hand and inched closer to his father’s leg. Vertical lines appeared between his large eyes. “I don’t want to go to school.”

Ryan hadn’t registered his son’s protest because all of his attention was directed at the woman dressed in a sheer white silk blouse, slim black linen wrap skirt and black heels.

He hadn’t known Kelly was behind him until he’d detected the scent of her perfume. Her exposed arms and legs shimmered with a dewy glow from a scented cream that sent a jolt of electricity through his body. Biting down on his lower lip, he struggled for control.

Sean tugged at his father’s hand. “Do I have to go to school, Daddy?”

“Yes, you do.”

Sean pushed out his lower lip. “But I don’t want to.”

“We’ve talked about his, Sean.” Ryan’s voice held a thread of hardness.

“No! I’m not going. I hate school!”

Kelly stared at Sean for several seconds. It was apparent the child was as stubborn and opinionated as his father. “School’s not so bad,” Kelly said, trying to calm the little boy down. “How about coming by the schoolhouse after dinner to check it out?”

Tears filled the boy’s eyes. “No!”

Ryan opened his mouth to reprimand his son for being rude, but Kelly shook her head. Threatening or bullying the child was not the solution. She’d discovered gentle persuasion usually worked well with young ones.

She met Ryan’s gaze. “I’m going to hold an open house for all of the children tomorrow morning at ten to show them their new school.” She stared at Sean. “You are more than welcome to come.”

She hadn’t planned to show the children their new classroom until Monday morning, but she would make an exception if it meant winning Sean over.

Tightening his grip on Kelly’s elbow, Ryan led her and Sean toward the entrance to the dining hall. Leaning closer, his moist breath sweeping over her ear, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Holding the door open, Ryan permitted Kelly and Sean to precede him into a large, one-story brick building that had been referred to over the years as the dining hall. The entryway was crowded with people, some he had known for most of his life. The tantalizing aromas coming from the kitchen reminded him that he had come home.

He reached for Sean’s hand while his free hand rested at the small of Kelly’s back as if it were a gesture he’d done many times before. She stiffened slightly before relaxing her back beneath his splayed fingers.

Closing her eyes briefly, Kelly endured Ryan’s touch and his closeness. It reminded her of what she had missed. There was never a time when she went out with Simeon that he hadn’t silently announced she was his. Whether it was cradling her hand in the bend of his elbow, or circling her waist with an arm, he’d communicated possession and protection. She opened her eyes to find Ryan staring at her, his expression impassive.

“Have you met everyone?”

Kelly shook her head, thick dark strands moving fluidly with the slight motion.

“I haven’t had the time,” she explained in a soft voice. “It took me a week to settle into my bungalow, and all of my free time has been spent readying the classroom for Monday.”

He frowned. “Why didn’t you get someone to help you?”

“I did. Your father made Dennis available for me whenever I needed to move or lift something heavy.”

Kelly, Sean and Ryan walked into the central dining hall amid a rousing round of applause and whistles. Sheldon stood under a colorful hand painted banner reading: Welcome To Blackstone Farms. Red and black helium-filled balloons—the colors of the farms’ silks—tied with contrasting ribbons served as centerpieces for each white cloth-covered table. A dozen tables, each with seating for four, were filling up with employees who lived on the property.

Sheldon motioned Ryan closer. “You, Sean and Miss Kelly will sit with me.”

Ryan pulled out a chair for Kelly, seating her while Sheldon performed the same motion for his grandson. He ruffled the child’s curly black hair.

Kelly removed the strap to the tiny black purse she’d slung over her chest, placing the crocheted bag on her lap. Her gaze swept around the large room.

The exterior of the dining hall, as with most of the buildings on the farm, was deceiving. Simply constructed of brick or wood, the interior was extraordinary. The dining hall’s furnishings rivaled those of any upscale restaurant in any major city. Dark paneled walls with decorative moldings, wide windows with stained-glass insets, plush carpeting, cloth-covered mahogany tables, Tiffany-style table lamps, fine china, crystal stemware, sterling silver and softly played taped classical selections set the stage for exquisite meals prepared by a resident chef.

Blackstone Farms was a thriving, profitable working horse farm and Sheldon had made certain it maintained a certain image given the numerous purses won by Blackstone champion Thoroughbreds over the years.

Still on his feet, Sheldon held a goblet filled with sparkling water. Raising a hand, he signaled for silence. “This isn’t going to take long.” A ripple of laughter followed his announcement.

“Yeah, right,” Kevin Manning, the head trainer called out.

Sheldon put down his glass and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at his lifelong friend. “You keep running off at the mouth and I’ll pull out my prepared speech.”

“No!” came a collected groan from everyone in the room.

Kelly glanced at Ryan when he threw back his head and laughed. Her gaze was fixed on his strong throat. So, she thought, he can laugh. The gesture changed his face, softening it.

Sheldon inclined his head. “May I continue?”

“Please,” Kevin said, raising a hand in supplication.

“Tonight is very special not only to me,” Sheldon continued, “but to everyone at Blackstone Farms. I get to have my son and grandson back for what I hope is more than a few months, and I want all of us to welcome the newest member of our farm family, Miss Kelly Andrews, the new teacher and director of Blackstone Farms Day School.”